Page 72 of Kenna's Dragon

The words are… dangerously close to being too much. Too much like tenderness. Too much like being seen and understood and vulnerable. All things I’ve never really shied away from in the past, being someone who so foolishly wears my heart smack dab in the middle of my sleeve, but with him? With whatever this thing between us is? Warning bells are ringing inside my ears.

“And you’ve done well for yourself,” Ewan continues when I don’t answer. “You should be proud of everything you’ve accomplished. And never feel you need to fit into someone else’s mold.”

I don’t know how to answer him. I don’t know if Icananswer him.

We shouldn’t be doing this.

I have to remember why it’s better that way, better for both of us. Better for whenever this ends. If I don’t give so much of myself away, there won’t be nearly as many broken pieces to pick up when it’s over.

Still, with the soft crackle of the fire and the sound of waves breaking on the shore, with the last streaks of daylight peeking from the horizon where the sun has set, painting the sky in a watercolor of pinks and blues and lavenders, it’s hard to listen to all of those warnings.

Especially when Ewan speaks again.

“Besides, you already know how I feel about all that fire of yours.” His tone is hushed, words gentle and reassuring, and they pull down one more brick in that wall I’m so damned determined to keep between us.

“Sorry,” I say softly, leaning into him as he pulls the blanket up over me, curling me deeper into his warmth.

“Sorry for what?”

“We were supposed to keep things light.”

Ewan goes silent, tensing a little behind me. A minute passes, then two, and I’m not about to be the one to break that silence.

“Because of how I reacted earlier,” he says finally, and it’s not a question. It’s not even directed at me, really, but more a thoughtful murmur to himself. “When you asked me about my days as a pirate.”

My days as a pirate.What a strange concept. I’ve always been able to see it in Elias, he’s just got that kind of vibe. But for serious, guarded, stoic Ewan, it’s never quite made sense.

“We don’t have to talk about it,” I say, not wanting to draw the same reaction from him I did in the car—jaw tight, body completely tense and on edge. Pain, so much pain in his eyes.

“Do you want me to talk about it?”

The question catches me off-guard. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” he says slowly, like he’s choosing his words carefully. “If you don’t want to… deal with all of that from me. Emotional baggage, grief. You don’t have to.”

Something tight and aching pinches in my chest at the words. He’s right, I know he’s right. I should take him up on the offer to step away from this cliff, keep myself from tumbling headlong into whatever’s waiting over the edge.

We don’t owe each other anything more than sex and friendship and casual fun. Lightness.

Still, I can’t shake the memory of that pain in his eyes. And I can’t stop myself from wanting to help him with whatever he’s carrying that’s so damn heavy.

“You can tell me.”

Ewan lets out a long, tense breath before he speaks.

“You were right,” he says, voice low and soft. “About what Nora told you. About the fact that Elias and I spent a few decades of our life at sea. And not on the right side of the Royal Navy.”

My imagination spins with the idea, picturing billowing sails, swashbuckling crews, and buried treasure.

“The way all of it ended… It’s not something I like to look back on.”

A lump settles in my throat at the exhaustion and grief in his voice, but I stay absolutely silent, waiting for whatever he’s about to say.

“During that time in my life, I met a woman… one who I recognized as my mate. Her name was Lizzy.”

The world tilts, then stops spinning entirely. I’m not sure I’m still breathing when I whisper my next question.

“What happened to her?”

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